


The U.P.P.C.

by raiining



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack not crack, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e04 Eye-Spy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they land in New York for a refuel, Skye finds an envelope slipped under her door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The U.P.P.C.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the ever wonderful Ralkana, who speed-beta'd this for me so I could get it out before the weekend. Thank you!!

When they land in New York for a refuel, Skye finds an envelope slipped under her door.

_Dear Ms. Skye,_ it reads,

_You are hereby invited to attend the monthly meeting of the U.P.P.C., to be held in S.H.I.E.L.D. conference room E, level 4 at 1400 hours on October 20th, 2013._

_Thank you,_

_Your fellow members_.

 

Skye reads the letter through twice. The U.P.P.C.? She has no idea what it means. An internet search reveals nothing. She uses her fancy new S.H.I.E.L.D. I.D. to access their servers and locates conference room E, level four, but finds no mention of the U.P.P.C.

She checks her watch. It’s ten a.m. on the twentieth of October, which means there’s more than enough time to make it to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and back. She confirms with Melinda that they’ll be grounded until at least tonight, and leaves the Bus. She doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going, but she does take her cell phone with her. She’s not a complete idiot.

S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ is located in a nondescript government building nestled between other nondescript government buildings, but continuing underground through a half-dozen secret bunkers. She’s been inside once, the day Coulson first brought her into the fold, to get her paperwork signed as an official ‘consultant’ of S.H.I.E.L.D. She doesn’t have a great memory for directions, but that’s what her cell phone is for – she makes it to level four with an hour to spare, having only gotten lost once.

She had worried her security clearance might not be high enough to get her to level four, but no one gives her trouble. She turns the corner to conference room E just as a tall, lanky man with shaggy red hair fumbles for a set of keys in his pocket.

He’s holding a box of donuts and another of muffins, so Skye jumps forward to help him out.

“Thanks,” the man says with a smile. He hands her the donuts and manages to fit his keys into the lock. “Can’t face these vultures without baked goods.”

“I thought coffee was the S.H.I.E.L.D. staple of choice?” she asks, following him into the room. The conference room looks like any other conference room – panelled walls, uncomfortable chairs, and a long, wide table in the centre. There are portraits along one wall, slightly faded. 

“That’s my next stop,” he tells her cheerfully. “Hey, are you Skye?”

She tenses, but he’s smiling and holding out his hand. She reminds herself that she was invited for real this time and takes it. “Yeah. I guess it was obvious?”

“It’s been a while since we had a new member.” 

“Okay.” She waits, but no other explanation is forthcoming. Falling back on politeness, she looks around. “I’m sorry for showing up early. Is there anything I can do to help?”

The man brightens. “Sure! Help me fold this table up and stack it against the wall, and then you can have your pick of donuts while I fetch the coffee.”

She steps nervously forward. The table looks like solid wood, but sure enough there's a small button on the bottom that, when pressed, folds the whole thing into a box. It reassures her that even though this looks like a regular office building, she’s still at S.H.I.E.L.D.

She helps fold the table the rest of the way, and pushes it to the far wall while the redhead rearranges the chairs in a lopsided circle. 

“There,” he says, admiring his handiwork. He looks up and waves her towards the boxes. “Help yourself.”

She’s never been one to resist free food. She picks out a Boston cream while eyeing the chairs. The set up makes it look like an A.A. meeting. “So what is this? A support group?”

The man gives her a smile. “Something like that. Stay here – I’ll be back with the coffee.”

He leaves the room and Skye takes a bite of her donut. It’s delicious. The Bus is fully stocked, but no one on Coulson’s team seems to understand the importance of powdery goodness. 

Of course, just as she’s licking cream off her fingers like a porn star, a smoking hot guy walks into the room. Skye coughs and drops her hand. “Uhhh…”

The guy smirks at her. He’s familiar in a strange sort of way, all dirty blonde hair and crooked smile. She wonders if she’s seen him in the building before, or if it was online. “That’s okay – going for the powdery ones just means you belong here. I’m Clint.”

“Uh, Skye,” she says, looking desperately around for a napkin, “but everyone here already seems to know that.”

Clint shrugs. “We haven’t had a new member for a while.”

“Yeah,” Skye agrees, looking at him oddly. “That’s what the redhead said, too.”

Clint gives her a thin smile and walks towards the donuts. She watches as he carefully makes his selection – strawberry jam, her second favourite – and takes one of the chairs. 

He's quiet as the other members of the group trickle in. There’s a gorgeous brunette named Annie and another, slightly older east-Indian lady who doesn’t introduce herself. The redhead comes back with coffee, as promised, and Annie refers to him as Thomas. 

“Well then, I guess we’re all here,” Thomas says, clapping his hands, but stops when the conference door opens.

They all stare as Amador walks in. Skye jumps out of her chair. “You!”

Amador gives her a blank-faced stare. It’s extra creepy with the eye patch. “I wondered if you’d be here today.”

Surprisingly, it’s Clint who comes forward first. “Akela,” he says, sounding warm. “It’s good to see you.”

She tilts her head at him. “You too, Clint. Are there still donuts?”

“Only chocolate glazed and raisin.”

She frowns and he laughs. “That’s what you get for arriving last minute.”

“I had to convince my guards to wait at the door.” 

Clint looks worried. “Are they giving you a hard time? I could – ”

Amador shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I understand their reservations. My trial isn’t until next week. I’ll take the chocolate glazed.”

“You always did hate raisins,” Clint agrees as he fetches her request. Amador takes the last chair in the circle. She looks around at the group.

The group stares back. Skye’s glad to see she’s not the only one who looks nervous.

“Well,” Thomas tries again. “Um – welcome back, Akela. Like Clint said, it’s good to see you.”

She inclines her head, but says nothing. 

“The monthly meeting of the U.P.P.C. will therefore now come to order. As our first order of business, we have a new member to welcome.” Everyone looks at Skye.

“Uh, yeah,” Skye says, feeling intensely uncomfortable. “I have no idea what’s going on here.”

Clint’s lips twitch in a smile, but the brunette Annie rolls her eyes. It’s Thomas who explains.

“U.P.P.C. stands for ‘Unofficial Protégés of Phil Coulson’. We’re a… well a support group, like you said. We’re an off-shoot of the formally S.H.I.E.L.D. recognized ‘Agents Who Are in Love or Who Have Been in Love with Phil Coulson’ support group.”

Skye stares at him. “You’re shitting me.”

It’s the older woman who speaks. “Nope.”

“Uh huh,” Skye says, giving each of them the stink eye. “I think I know when I’m being played. No, thank you. Someone tell Ward he can turn off the camera now.”

Clint shrugs but doesn’t move from his chair. “Coulson doesn’t believe us, either. The group has been formally logged within S.H.I.E.L.D. for years now, and we all get points we can bring to our psychologist for attending. He thinks it’s a joke, though. He’s never understood.”

Skye eyes him. “Understood what?”

“What he does to people,” Thomas explains. He gives her a sad smile. “He rescued you, didn’t he?”

Skye feels her throat close up. She swallows. “Yeah.”

Thomas shrugs. “Well, he rescued each of us, too. Took us under his wing, taught us some of what he knows. Each of us fell in love with him, at least a little bit. That kind of thing is hard to go through, and harder to lose. That’s why we’re here for each other.”

Skye looks around the circle. “You’re serious?”

The older woman gives her a flat look. “Are you going to sit there and tell us that you’re _not_ in love with him? Not even a little bit?”

Skye opens her mouth to deny it, and then thinks for a moment. She sighs. “No.”

Annie smirks. “See? He does it. Every time. And never has any clue.”

“How can he not know?” Skye demands. She stares at the group. They are men and women here, old and young. “Surely with one of us, he must have – ”

Thomas shakes his head. “Nope. It’s not your fault, Skye. It’s not ours, either. It’s his.” He nods to the wall of slightly faded portraits.

Skye frowns, then stands and walks towards the pictures. Each is of a man or a woman in a dark suit, smiling tightly and staring at the camera. They look like board room delegates, or administrators. “I don’t get it.”

“Second from the left,” Thomas says, and Skye looks at the picture of a man slightly younger than Coulson probably is. He’s handsome in a cruel way, with sharp eyes and a steady chin. 

“David Robertson. He was Coulson’s first protégé. He brought him over from the army, shortly after he was established at S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson trained him as an agent, taught him everything he knew, and then Robertson betrayed him.”

Skye turns back to the group. “That doesn’t any make sense. If he betrayed S.H.I.E.L.D., then why is his picture on a wall?”

Thomas shakes his head. “I said he betrayed _Coulson_ , not S.H.I.E.L.D. Robertson was a good agent and earned himself several commendations, but in the end he made a call Coulson disagreed with. He completed the mission, but civilians were killed. Coulson decided not to testify at the trial, and Davidson was discharged with pay. No one knows what happened to him after that. There are those who think Fury had him black-bagged, because no one disobeys his One Good Eye, but that’s unconfirmed. It could be he went to HYDRA, or is living a quiet life in Missouri. No one knows.”

Skye looks back at the photo. “And after that, he decided not to trust people again?”

“After that, he became a bit more careful,” Thomas temporizes. “I think he trusts us just fine.”

“More than he should,” Amador breaks in.

Thomas acknowledges her words with a nod. “Maybe. He’s always been one for trusting with his life – but not with his heart.”

“Wow,” Skye says, taking a seat. “So this really is a support group then, huh?”

Thomas smiles. “Yup.”

They spend the next hour sharing ‘one time Phil Coulson’ stories. Skye appreciates the insight into his character, and she has to admit that it’s nice to sit with other people who understand. Who get the mix of frustration and restrained longing she feels when she talks about her boss. He’s naïve, experienced, reckless, and methodical. He’s a puzzle.

Skye's always liked puzzles.

Finally, the meeting ends. The donuts are all gone, the muffins picked over, and the coffee is getting cold. She stands with the rest of the group when Thomas declares the session over. “Participation will be logged onto the S.H.I.E.L.D. servers,” he tells them as they leave. “Your psychologists can assign points from there.”

Clint is the only one who didn’t say much during the meeting, even less than the older woman had. “Psychologists?” Skye asks him on their way out.

Clint shrugs. “Most active agents have an assigned psychologist. We get points for attending sessions, and more for doing group work. It’s not mandatory, but it looks good on your record. That can help you get back into the field.”

“So you’re an active field agent, huh?”

Clint smiles. “Yeah, most of the time. My life’s kind of been on stand-by for a while, though.”

They walk a few feet down the corridor in silence. She doesn’t know where Clint is going after this, but she’s due back at the Bus in a few hours. “I figured out why you guys haven’t had a lot of new members, lately,” she says. “It’s because Coulson was injured in the Battle for New York, right?”

Clint’s face shutters. “Yeah.”

“But even then – he must not take on people very often. He’s been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for how long now?”

“Almost twenty years. There were more members, of course. Some have died, some have moved on. A few even married and went respectable – got over him and on with their lives.”

“But not you?”

Clint gives her a sad, tired smile. “No.”

She thinks of her boss. “It must be hard to have that kind of attention, and then lose it.”

Clint looks away. “Yeah.” He turns to go. 

“No, wait! I’m sorry,” she apologizes, running to keep up with him. “I was just thinking of what I would do in six months, in two years, in ten. Coulson kind of changed my life, you know?”

She can tell from his expression that he does. 

“Here,” she says, before she can mentally talk herself out of it. “Let me give you my cell phone number. You can text me when you’re having a bad day and I’ll tell you what idiotic thing he’s done this week. It’ll be extra group work.”

Clint stares at her for a moment. She can see a host of emotions flit across his face, but finally he sighs and digs out his phone.

It’s a model she doesn’t recognize. She restrains her natural curiosity. “Okay, what’s your number?” he asks.

They exchange digits and then Skye leaves. She bounces on her way back to the Bus. Sure, he may be in a totally unrequited love with Phil Coulson, but Clint is _hot_. She just got a hot guy’s phone number!

No one asks her where she was when she gets back, and they’re in the air before dinnertime. Skye sends Clint a text when they’re somewhere over the Atlantic. _I think he spent the day doing paperwork_ , she types.

_Of course he did. It’s how he relaxes in his spare time_ , Clint texts back. 

_I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,_ she writes. _Are you pulling my leg?_

_I wish_ , he writes, and then, _Is Lola with you?_

Skye thinks of the red convertible. _Yeah_.

_Good_ , Clint types, and then goes quiet for the night. Skye sleeps with her phone clutched in her hand.

They strike up an odd sort of friendship after that. The team’s next mission is to a refinery plant in Asia where mutants are being used to convert worthless metal into gold. They stop the corrupt mining execs and free the mutants, who’ve been living in slave-like conditions under the plant. After that, they’re off to Australia, where a scientist has been sequestering himself in the desert to work on some secret formula Skye never truly understands.

It’s action packed and dangerous, and Coulson does a half-dozen things every week that make her want to rip out her hair and kiss him at the same time. She discovers a daddy-kink fantasy she never knew she had.

At the same time, though, she knows her crush is manageable. She’s still fully capable of admiring the way Ward fills out his t-shirt and Fitz makes adorable puppy faces every thirty seconds or so. She even manages to go out on a date between missions, and ends up having a one-night stand she thoroughly enjoys. Her thing for Agent Coulson is fun, slightly kinky, and a little dangerous – but it’s not serious.

Clint’s obviously is.

They text at least several times a week, sometimes more. She complains about Coulson and he listens, obviously soaking in every detail she can give him. She tries to wheedle out more of the history of his life, but he remains tight-lipped. All she knows is that he and Coulson worked together for many years, and travelled all over the world together. She wonders how many teams like this Coulson has had.

She finally figures out why he looks familiar when Simmons yelps and turns on the TV downstairs. Doombots are attacking New York and the Avengers have assembled. Skye is alternating her attention between the various social media sites tracking the action and CNN – the rest of the team is staring unabashedly at the television screen, Coulson included.

When she catches sight of Hawkeye, standing on a high-rise building aiming precision shots at Doombots as they fly by, she leaps up from her chair. “Son of a _bitch_!”

The team stares at her but Skye is already dialling Clint’s number, something she’s never done before. “You never said you were an Avenger,” she accuses, when he unexpectedly picks up.

“Uh, hi?” Clint says. He sounds slightly out of breath. On the screen, Skye can see the tiny figure of Hawkeye cock its head, even as it reaches for an arrow.

“Is your cell phone connected to your comm. piece?” she demands, as he makes another impossible shot and takes out two doombots with one arrow. “Why the hell did you answer your phone?”

“You’re on the plane with Coulson,” Clint explains, as if that’s reason enough. “I wasn’t sure if he needed something or not.”

“You are such a fucking idiot,” she tells him, before realizing that she’s still on the Bus, and the rest of the team is staring at her.

“Who are you talking to?” Fitz asks, but Coulson’s expression has already gone tight.

“Umm,” Skye attempts to deflect, “a friend?”

Coulson twitches, and Skye wonders if he’s upset, but then he reaches out and snags the phone from her hand.

“Wha – hey!” she protests.

“Hawkeye, watch your six,” he snaps into the phone, still watching the CNN feed. Hawkeye immediately turns and shoots behind him, where a doombot was sneaking up on his rear.

The doombot explodes, and even from the feed she can see Clint’s grin. She can’t hear what he says to Coulson over the phone, but her boss’s expression doesn’t improve. “Maintain radio silence,” he says, but he doesn’t hang up. “How long until we reach New York?” he asks Melinda instead.

“Two hours,” she tells him, her voice coming clear over the intercom. “Traffic has been cleared for our approach.”

“Good,” Coulson says, still clutching Skye’s phone in his hand. 

They spend the rest of the battle like that, clustered around the TV. Coulson doesn’t relax until the last of the doombots have been destroyed. Clint looks okay. He has a few close calls, but he always manages to jump out of the way. Thor and Iron Man take out most of the doombots, and Captain America saves a dozen civilians caught in the crossfire. Even the Hulk does his part. The Black Widow isn’t in the battle, or at least she’s no place CNN can see.

Coulson only has eyes for Clint, though. When CNN switches to a different camera, his gaze immediately snaps back to the place where Clint was last seen.

“He’s okay,” she can’t help but say, when the battle is over. “He did good.”

“He always does good,” Coulson tells her, his eyes still fastened on the TV. The CNN reporter is reviewing the damage done by the doombots, and replaying several close calls by the Avengers. 

“Because you trained him,” she guesses, but Coulson shakes his head.

“Because he’s the best.”

The plane lands and Skye finds herself following Coulson out. They’re just outside of the city, at the private landing field S.H.I.E.L.D. owns there. She doesn’t know how Clint could have beaten them to the airport, but she isn’t surprised when the door opens and he’s standing outside the plane, fiddling nervously with his bow.

“Heya, boss.”

She can see the soot of the battle still clinging to his uniform, the scrapes and bruises that are just starting to show. He glances up at her once, but his attention is mostly on Coulson. 

Skye wonders if he’s seen her boss since he came back from the dead. She’s not sure if he has.

Coulson runs his eyes over his old protégé. She can see way his shoulders relax just a bit, as if he’s only now accepting that Clint is okay. “Did you skip out on your post-mission medical check?”

Clint shrugs in a way that means he totally did. “Tony scanned me for injuries.”

“You know JARVIS isn’t a qualified medical practitioner.”

“He’s close enough.”

“Barton…”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Clint insists. Something in his voice has gone tight. “And so are you. Hey look, not dead. How’s that working out for you?”

She watches Coulson sigh. “You know why Fury had to wait to tell you.”

Clint shrugs, but it isn’t carefree any more. “Yeah.”

Coulson nods. They both stand there, saying nothing. After a minute, she whistles. “Wow. You two are something else.”

Clint grins at her, tired and sad, but Coulson’s expression doesn’t change. “How do you know each other, by the way?”

“Oh, we’re in the same support group,” Skye breezes. “The U.P.P.C., very exclusive.”

Coulson frowns. “The U.P.P.C.?”

“It’s a division of the AWALWHBLPC – and whoa, is that a mouthful. Who names this stuff, anyways?”

Clint rolls his eyes at her and turns away, but Coulson doesn’t move. His voice is tight. “That old gag? Did Clint rope you into it?”

“It’s not a gag, it’s a real group,” she tells him. “Very important. People need help, you know. It’s hard to get by some days.”

He sighs and touches the bridge of his nose. “Of course it is. Well, if that’s everything…”

Skye mentally windmills and looks back at her team. They’re standing in the doorway of the plane looking confused. “Uh, that’s not it,” Skye says quickly. “We’re, uh, we’re all good here, so why don’t you and Clint go and, you know, catch up or something?”

Clint shoots her an unimpressed look, and Skye has to wince because – yeah. Subtle she is not.

“That’s not necessary, sir I – ”

“I’d enjoy that, actually,” Coulson interrupts. He looks over at Clint. “I think Agent Barton needs some remedial discussion about proper cell phone procedures in the field.”

Clint looks at Coulson as if checking to see that he’s serious. When Coulson says nothing, he tries for a careful grin. “Well, I don’t know about remedial homework, but I could go for some food.”

“Food it is,” Coulson says, nodding his head. He looks back at Skye. “You’ll be fine on your own?”

Skye waves him off. “Us? We’ll be peachy. You boys go have fun.”

Coulson seems to hesitate, but finally turns. He looks back at Clint. “Shall we?”

Clint licks his lips, looks once to Skye, and then back to his old boss. He swallows, as if suddenly shy. “Sure.”

Skye walks back to the Bus to stand with her team. Fitz leans over as they watch them go, Coulson lengthening his stride to meet Clint’s. Clint is still too-tightly clutching his bow. “What was that all about?”

“Shh,” Skye hushes him, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

 

*

 

She doesn’t talk to Clint again until the next day, when she texts him after breakfast.

_Did everything go okay?_

_Remind me never to go undercover with you in the field,_ he writes back.

_I am a natural,_ she responds. _And I can totally learn how to be more subtle._

_Please, don’t_ , he texts back. There’s a pause, and then her phone buzzes again. _Phil says to get back to work. Someone has to keep FitzSimmons in line._

_I did not volunteer for scientist wrangling,_ she tells him, but she's smiling. _Also, good in bed: y/n?_

_I’m turning off my phone now_.

_Oh, come on! Enquiring minds want to know!_

There’s a pause, and then someone else, she’s willing to bet that it’s Coulson, texts back, _You two should never have been allowed to meet._

_Too late, boss,_ she writes with a grin. _The damage has already been done._

_Tell the team I’ll be back by noon._

_What’s the rush? Relax, take a day. The world can wait, right?_

_Noon. Though I might not come back alone._

Skye grins as she thumbs off her phone. She wonders what the rest of the group will have to say to this. Maybe she should bring an extra order of sympathy donuts to share.


End file.
